


Thinking Of

by tornyourdress



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/F, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-15
Updated: 2010-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 02:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/pseuds/tornyourdress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione doesn't really think about people when she . . . well, you know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking Of

  
  
She doesn't really think about people when she . . . well, you know. Touches herself. Masturbates. God, she hates that word. It's so _technical_. And being technical is all very well when it's appropriate, but there are times when euphemisms and synonyms are much better than being specific.

She used to have this one fantasy. Pansy Parkinson in the girls' bathroom. Why Pansy, she has no – well, actually, she does have an idea. Pansy because Pansy is just the sort of girl to go down on someone in a bathroom when they're supposed to be in class. It's naughty. It's wrong. It's everything Pansy _is_, and everything Hermione _isn't_, and that's why it's a fantasy, but nothing more, nothing more than that.

That's what Pansy used to be to her. It didn't matter that Pansy was a bitch in real life, it didn't matter that they hated each other. Things like that don't matter in a fantasy.

_You walk in and she's there, having slid down to the floor with her skirt around her ankles and her hand inside her knickers, making slow circular motions. She sees you and she doesn't say anything, doesn't look embarrassed, just raises an eyebrow. And she knows you're getting off on this, she knows, and she's not surprised when you join her. You're wearing plain white cotton knickers, because that's what you wear, plain and simple and practical, not like her in black lace, damp now, and her fingers are moving faster and faster now, and your fingers follow a similar rhythm, circling round your clit and then pressing down, but you're nowhere near as close as she is, and after she comes, after she leans her head against the wall and let out an unrestrained moan like you've never heard before, she kneels before you as though in worship, and you wish you weren't still standing because the minute her tongue touches those plain white cotton knickers of yours, before her fingers push them aside, your knees buckle, and you're barely balancing, barely able to keep breathing, even, and her tongue is wet and soft and you're wet and oh god how can something this simple, this basic, this coming together of two body parts, no magic involved, feel so good? And when her mouth presses into you so hard you're not sure where you end and she begins, and her fingers slide inside you, you moan the way she does, not caring who hears, only caring that this feels good._

Pansy's the sort of girl to go down on someone in a bathroom. It was easier when that's all she was to Hermione, someone to fantasise about when everyone else was asleep and her hand was moving frantically between her legs and her mouth was buried in her pillow so no one would hear her when she came.

Fantasising about Pansy in that way was okay. It was even vaguely realistic, it was the sort of thing that could actually happen one day. The way she fantasises about Pansy now – hugs and kisses, caresses and whispers, secrets and dreams – is foolish.

And now that she has _those_ fantasies, she can't go back to the way things used to be. So she doesn't really think about anyone late at night, doesn't think about her dream-Pansy, who would love her forever, and can't think about real-Pansy, who would never love her but would probably fuck her, and so she just closes her eyes and does it.  



End file.
